


Extended Family

by LittleMissO



Category: Holby City
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Everybody Lives, F/F, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissO/pseuds/LittleMissO
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 22
Kudos: 70
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beezarre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beezarre/gifts).



The soap bubbles in the sink in front of her smelt most distinctly of mulled wine. Above the scents of roast turkey, sherry trifle, the remnants of the cheese board and the various other Christmas smells permeating the kitchen Serena was quite impressed that she could make it out. The washing up liquid was obviously very strongly mulled wine scented. Bernie had brought it home yesterday with her from her Christmas Eve foray into the local supermarket where she had been sent to pick up some last minute essentials for the big day. Apparently she hadn’t been able to resist it, thinking that Serena would love it. She hadn’t been wrong. It had indeed made Serena smile. It was absolutely up her street after all. It wasn’t that so much that which made Serena smile, it was that in her excitement at having found something that she thought Serena would like, Bernie seemed to have forgotten that they owned a dishwasher and had no need for washing up liquid. You can’t trust your best wine glasses to the dishwasher, Bernie had noted, quite correctly, they’ll need to be done by hand. Serena never failed to be surprised by the side of Bernie that revelled in all things domestic, in building a home and a family. Thank goodness that Bernie had waited for her after she’d left Jason and Greta’s wedding reception. I wasn’t going to let you go without a fight, Bernie had told Serena when she had asked why she’d stayed. That night they’d talked, really talked – possibly for the first time ever - about hopes, assumptions, dreams, desires beliefs and fears. When, exhausted, they’d eventually fallen into bed they’d fallen into bed together – a tangle of limbs so intertwined it wasn’t easy to tell where one began and the other ended. Their lives had remained as intertwined as their limbs had been that first night ever since.

Serena had taken the washing up liquid from her partner with a happy smile and had rewarded her brave soldier, fresh from the battle field of Christmas Eve shopping with all it’s perils, by giving her a cup of tea, a mince pie and a kiss. 

Serena was lost in memories of that kiss and where it had led them the previous afternoon that she could almost feel Bernie’s arms around her and the temptation to lose herself in them was almost too strong to resist. It wasn’t until a voice beside her ear said very quietly “Hello you” that Serena realised she wasn’t deep in a day dream and that Bernie was actually stood behind her, arms wrapped tightly round her, holding her close. Serena lent back into Bernie’s arms as she continued to whisper in her ear,  
“We’re all alone now. Come and join me in the living room. I’ve got a nice warm spot on the sofa saved for you.”

“Just let me finish these glasses and I’m all yours.”

“The glasses can wait. I can’t.” Bernie tells her, punctuating each word with kisses and nibbles to Serena’s neck. Serena feels herself wavering. On the one hand she really wants to get the glasses safely away before the day is over. On the other hand the thought of curling up on the sofa with Bernie (especially the way she was making her feel right now) was very appealing. She’s very close to capitulating and following Bernie to the living room when Bernie delivers the clincher  
“There’s an open bottle of Shiraz that needs drinking.” At this point Serena is sold. Turning round in Bernie’s arms she plants a gentle feather kiss on Bernie’s lips.

“You make a very convincing argument.” Serena notes, and brings her hand up as if to stroke Bernie’s face but at the last minute deposits the bubbles she’d been concealing in the closed palm of her hand on Bernie’s nose. 

“What was that for?” Bernie exclaims.

“For knowing exactly how to tempt me away from what I should be doing”

“Humpfh” Bernie mutters, exhaling sharply. Serena isn’t sure if it’s a huff of annoyance, or if she’s merely trying to remove the bubbles from the tip of her nose without having to let Serena go. 

“Guilty as charged.” she admits, her face showing no signs of regret or remorse, but sporting a wide happy grin “Come on then.” she says as she drops her hands from Serena’s waist, catches her hand and tugs her gently towards the living room. Serena follows her willingly, a broad smile on her face as well.

It’s not long before they’re sat comfortably on the sofa. Bernie is in the corner by the squishy arm, angled so that Serena can lean back against her for all the world like she’s a pillow. Serena is nursing a large glass of Shiraz and Bernie is in reaching distance of a large tin of chocolates. In front of them the fire is crackling away, bathing the room in a gentle light and cosy warmth. Apart from the odd rustle of a sweet wrapper being peeled off or a log shifting in the fireplace all is calm and quiet.

Bernie moves her arm down to more closely hold Serena to her.

“It’s been a lovely day.” she says after a while.

“Mmm.” agrees Serena.

“I missed so many family Christmas’ when my two were growing up. It was so nice to be part of one today.”

“Bernie.” Serena says with an edge of seriousness in her voice “You very much are part of this family, such as it is. And Cam and Charlotte as well. I hope you know that?”

“I didn’t for a long time, but I do now.” Bernie responds and gives Serena an extra tight squeeze. “You really do go all out at Christmas don’t you – with the family thing I mean.”

“Do I? Serena considers for a moment. “I suppose I do. It’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? When Elinor was younger and Edward I were divorced I spent a couple of Christmases alone. It was rather depressing. After that I started to volunteer to cover shifts on Christmas Day for colleagues who had families they wanted to be with if Elinor wasn’t going to be with me. At least I had company then, and I was being useful. In the last few years I realised that I could open up my house to any of my friends and Holby family who would otherwise be alone. It started as a one off when Ric joined Elinor and I one year. The following year Raf came too. It just sort of grew from there.”

“You really enjoy it all, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?” Serena asks. Bernie considers carefully, running the days events through in her head.

The early morning had been theirs alone. A lazy wake up, strong hot coffee, purely medicinal pain au chocolat, cuddles and snuggles, exchanging personal gifts – just relishing in waking up on Christmas morning together for the first time. The only downside had been Serena insisting that they get out of bed and dressed before 9.30.am. The turkey, prepared for the oven the night before, had been cooking since 8.am, safely placed in the large oven by Serena when she had been making the morning coffee. Bernie had been incredulous when Serena had told her that the turkey would would take four and a half hours to cook, but she’d started to understand when she’d seen the size of the 20lb bird. She hadn’t realised turkeys could grow that big. 

Washed and dressed by 9.30am as requested (though not without some grumbling on her part and some reluctance to leave the warm comfort of Serena and her bed) Bernie had appeared in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected to see, but it hadn’t been Serena rubbing butter into two turkey crowns. Bernie had expressed the opinion that she thought they’d enough turkey already in the oven, only to be swiftly told “nowhere near” and that “she’d see”. Further discussion had been forestalled by Serena handing Bernie a peeler and pointing her in the direction of a mountain of spuds, whilst the other hand had passed her a glass of prosecco. Thus fortified she had set to with the peeler. The next hour or so passed in a haze of peeling, chopping, stuffing and general food preparation, accompanied by a very cheesy and old Christmas CD.

Once lunch preparations were competed they’d moved on to decorating the table: putting out the best china, crackers and name plates as well as small individual gifts for each guests. The table looked splendid and festive, sparkling in the light of the electric candles (Jason had refused to allow real ones anywhere near Guinevere at her young age of not even two), the glow they gave out glittered and flashed off wine glasses, crackers and the bauble centre piece. Bernie had been complimenting Serena on how wonderful it looked, when, as if on cue, the doorbell rang. 

Cam and Charlotte stood on the other side of the door, wearing Santa hats, holding gifts and beaming at their Mothers. Behind them, lacking a hat but wearing a glittery scarf and Rudolph earrings, was Elinor who Cam and Charlotte had collected on their way over. In the year since Bernie and Serena had resolved to make a proper ‘go’ of their relationships all three of their children had recognised, one by one and in their own time, that there was nothing temporary about it. When they’d seen how happy Serena and Bernie made each other, and how deeply, truly (and as Elinor on more than one occasion had said, sickeningly) in love they were they’d all accepted it and had even gone as far as being happy for their Mothers. 

An unexpected side effect of the blending of the two families was the genuine friendship that had sprung up between the three twenty somethings. Although at first there had been friction and tension between them – mainly due to a certain amount of wariness, they had soon discovered they had interests in common - in addition to the bond they formed by having over achieving Mothers. It wasn’t now uncommon for the three of them to get together without either of the Mothers present. Grabbing a quick coffee together had soon developed into concerts, drinks and nights on the town. Bernie and Serena were quietly pleased with this turn of events. Charlotte, the quietest and most sensible of the three acted as something of a restraining influence on the more reckless and less sensible Cam and Elinor. In return they brought Charlotte out of herself, encouraged her to be more outgoing and generally to have some fun. It seemed to work out well for everyone.

The children were welcomed in, coats and scarves were removed, fresh bottles of proscecco were opened and gifts exchanged It was just as the last of the presents had been opened and exclaimed over and thoughts were turning to clearing away the piles of discarded wrapping paper that the doorbell had rung again - heralding the arrival of Jason, Greta and Guinevere. It took no time at all for Guinevere, having gained in confidence in her relatively newly learned skill of walking, to launch herself at the piles of wrapping paper and gleefully start playing around in it. Fresh squeezed fruit juice was offered to Jason and Greta, neither of whom liked drinking. The adults watched Guinevere happily occupying herself with smiles, her enjoyment was infectious.  
“She was the same with her stocking this morning. Santa brought her several engaging and age appropriate toys and she ignored them and played with the boxes and wrapping paper. I don’t understand why.” Jason had noted.

“Most young children go through a phase of preferring the paper and packaging to the presents.” Serena had said reassuringly to Jason. Greta pointed out a selection of statistics and research papers that had sought to record and understand this exact phenomenon, suggesting a range of possible explanations: the entrancing bright colours or tactile nature of the paper, the permission to scrunch and rip it with impunity, as possible reasons for the attraction. Greta’s own conclusion had been that her daughters fascination was to have been anticipated and accounted for. As long as Guinevere was happy and doing no no harm she couldn’t see it was a problem. Looking at the joy on his daughter’s face Jason couldn’t help but agree. Although he noted that it did make tidying it up a bit of a chore.

Refreshments and small talk had given way to another round of present giving, delighting Guinevere with both the abundance of fresh wrapping paper to play with that it provided, but, more importantly, in the brand new tea set she had received from her Great Aunties and the three dolls she had been given by Elinor,Cam and Charlotte. Jason, who had come prepared with a small pair of scissors (highly probable he’d need to remove ties and packaging and fit toys with batteries he’d realised. Perfectly logical to bring them with him to have them on hand he’d explained) made short work of opening everything and soon Guinevere and her new dolls were enjoying a very fine tea party on the carpet. Greta joined her daughter on the floor when she was beckoned to share in the dolls party. Jason wasn’t required to sit on the floor but was required to partake of an imaginary cup of tea, pronouncing it ‘acceptable’ earning himself a smile of glee from his daughter. 

With encouragement from her Mother, and a little trepidation, Guinevere had approached the slightly scare Cam, flower covered teapot and cup in hand, the one word question ‘tea’ on her lips. Cam, who knew how to play this game, had replied ‘yes please’ with great enthusiasm and had drunk the fictional content of the cup with compliments on its flavour and noting repeatedly how much he was enjoying it. Emboldened by this success Guinevere offered both Elinor and Charlotte their own cup of tea. Both the young women were happy to indulge the tot and soon Guinevere was happily refilling cup after cup from her seemingly never emptying teapot.

Serena, who had returned to the kitchen as the tea party had begun to check on dinner and start the vegetables going, appeared in the doorway and stood quietly watching the tea party play out in front of her. She had such a look of happiness on her face it seemed she was very nearly in tears. Bernie, who had been gathering the Chablis and fruit juice from the fridge in the utility room on the far side of the kitchen had come up behind Serena, silently wrapped her arms around her and murmured gently in her ear 

“She gets it from her Great Aunt you know.”

“Gets what? Serena had asked. 

“The looking after everything thing, including everyone thing, the feeding everyone thing. The whole mother hen thing.

“Oh hush!” Serena had said revelling in watching her family happy together – delighted with the scene but unwilling to take any credit in bringing it about. Instead she’d pointed out to Bernie that Christmas lunch was almost ready and that she should usher people through to the dinning room. Bernie’s tongue in cheek comment that there was obviously no way that Guinevere had got her mother hen gene from Serena was met by a raised eyebrow and serving spoon from Serena. Bernie had hastened out of the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Bernie had set to persuading the children of all ages to gather round the table for lunch. Admittedly it hadn’t been an onerous task, as they’d all been rather keen to eat. It wasn’t long before the entire family had been sat round the richly decorated table. Guinevere, in her high chair, had taken the head of the table, flanked by her parents. The other children lined the sides of the table leaving Bernie and Serena to sit by the serving hatch that connected kitchen and dining room. Serena, however, hadn’t been in her seat, she’d been in the kitchen poised for action. As soon as everybody was settled in position she’d heaved up a huge plate loaded with crisp golden roast potatoes, put it on the hatch and declared

“I hope you’re all hungry” as the platter of potatoes was passed, person to person, down the table. The potatoes were followed by dish after dish from the kitchen. Brussels sprouts followed cranberry sauce, followed roast parsnips, peas, roast sweet potatoes, stuffing balls, bread sauce, carrots, gammon, broccoli and pigs in blankets. By the time Serena had finished passing food through the table had been groaning under the weight of the feast on top of it. It didn’t seem as if there was room for another morsel of anything on it. Bernie had been beginning to get concerned about where they were going to put the turkey. She didn’t have to wonder for long. Serena had appeared in the doorway bearing the huge turkey on an enormous dish, which she’d placed on the side table at the end of the room. 

“Jason, would you carve please?” she’d asked. Jason, obviously aware that he was going to be asked, had picked up the cloth bundle at the side of his plate and unrolled it to reveal a carving knife, carving fork and a sharpening stone. Giving the blade a couple of swipes across the stone to ensure that it was still razor sharp, he had approached the turkey and set about turning it into a platter of neat slices of tender meat. He had, he’d explained, researched the most efficient ways of carving a turkey and felt he had found one that reduced any potential waste and allowed rapid and easy slicing.

Whilst he had been doing this Serena had made a trip back to the kitchen. When she returned to the dining room she was holding aloft the two turkey crowns. Obviously knowing what was happening, Elinor had stood up, taken one of the crowns from her Mother, gathered a set of carving utensils from the side table and found herself a place alongside Jason. She’d set about carefully and neatly reducing it to slices and adding them to the very large serving platter on the side table between her and Jason. Serena, meanwhile had turned to Charlotte, proffered the second crown and asked if she would be so kind as to carve it. Bernie, sensing that Charlotte was slightly hesitant, had quickly offered to take on the task herself, only to be met with an “absolutely not” from Serena. Family rule, she’d said. Those who carve into people during the rest of the year don’t get to carve into turkey at Christmas she’d explained. Wouldn’t want them to run the risk of anyone forgetting themselves and attempting to reattach a leg rather than detach it. Serena’s comments had made Charlotte laugh and thus emboldened her to take her place at the side table. 

The three of them had made short work of the carving and they were soon back in their seats. Platters of food were passed round the table and drink was poured liberally. It hadn’t been long before plates had been piled high with far more food than anybody truly needed, and glasses were full to the brim. Before they could all tuck in there was one final thing that they had needed to do – pull the crackers. Cam and Charlotte had reminded Bernie that the rule in the Wolfe Dunn household had been that those without paper hats went without lunch. 

“They’re right, you know.” Bernie had acknowledged as she offered the end of her cracker to Serena and started a flurry of bangs that swept the table as one by one the guests pulled their crackers. Guinevere had not been very impressed with the loud bags the crackers had made, opting to bury her head in her mother. She’d become braver when bangs had subsided and the adults had put their hats on. In fact she’d clapped in delight and insisted on having a hat of her own, refusing to remove it even when it had fallen over her head and settled around her neck like an over sized piece of jewellery. Greta had shrugged her shoulders and left it where her daughter had wanted it, deciding that there was no point in causing a scene by trying to remove it. 

A hush had descended on the table whilst the adults ate. Guinevere had her own food in front of her, She’d refused the plate she’d been offered and instead had put her dinner on one of the flowery plates that had come with her tea service. Again Greta had felt it was better to let the youngster have her way this once. After all it wasn’t going to do any harm. Greta explained that she and Jason had managed to feed her fruit and yoghurt for breakfast that morning before she’d really cottoned on to the fact that the stocking and it’s contents were for her, and that she could eat all the chocolate she found in it – and indeed had tried very hard to do so. Guinevere had been happy playing with the carrots, peas potatoes and turkey she had been given, turning more of it to mush than she had actually eaten. Her stomach was far too full of chocolate to want much lunch. The adults had tucked in with gusto. 

The food was abundant and full of flavour and the people gathered round the table had been hungry and in good humour. The flowing wine had put people at ease and as initial appetites had been sated conversations had begun to flow just as abundantly. Cam had filled the table in on his favourite patient of the night before. A rather rotund and kindly elderly gentleman who, after one too many glasses of Christmas cheer had sat down in his comfy armchair - but failed to notice the shiny glass bauble his four year old granddaughter had left on it. The decoration had shattered on impact and fragments had become embedded in the most unfortunate of places. He had also explained how he had spent a considerable amount of time removing them with with a pair of tweezers – much to his discomfort and the patients. Bernie had, in response, told the story of the patient she had seen in her early days on AAU with a tap wedged up his backside. She’d told the how hard it had been not to laugh at the unfortunate man’s predicament, especially when he had complained to Fletch how he was running hot and cold. She had explained, with great flair and accompanying actions, exactly how comical removing the tap in theatre had been – even adding a well chosen sound effect.

“Macho Army Medic you may be, but I still beat you hands down at arm wrestling.” Serena had interjected as soon as Bernie had finished her story. 

“You arm wrestled? Cam had questioned in disbelief. 

“For the pleasure of removing aforementioned tap.” Serena confirmed, and took another sip of her wine. 

“Eww!” Elinor had added. “That’s far too cute and coupley.”

“Oh this was before we had feelings for one another.” Bernie had clarified. 

“Really?” Charlotte had responded. “It doesn’t sound much like standard behaviour between two professional colleagues to me.”

“It didn’t do me much good anyway.” Serena had said diverting attention away from the line it had been going down. “Turns out the tap was too firmly wedged for me to get it out and Bernie ended up doing the honours anyway. 

Elinor had chipped in at this point with a story about an evening she had spent in A&E with a friend who had been thrown onto a bed by her boyfriend. Sadly both bed and mattress had been old and somewhat worn out and her friend had landed on a rusty spring which embedded itself in her thigh, thus putting an end to any further activities they’d had planned involving the bed. Being an engineering student the unlucky would-be-Romeo had a pair of heavy duty pliers to hand and was able to cut the spring from the mattress. That had freed Elinor’s friend from the bed, but she’d still had the remainder of the spring hanging out of her thigh. The unhappy couple had decided that their relationship was not headed anywhere much after that incident and Elinor had been prevailed upon to drive her friend, very carefully, to the local Emergency Department. 

Jason had offered his own story of member of a Civil War re-enactment group who had been brought in after he’d fallen off his horse and struck his head on a rock. He’d dented his helmet so badly that he’d been unable to take it off, that was until Jason, much to the man’s dismay, suggested that the Fire Brigade might be able to help, and if not, perhaps a blacksmith. Jason’s deadpan. But graphic, description of the man and his reaction had the entire table in peals of laughter. 

Bernie had felt Serena’s hand squeeze her knee under the table. Bernie had looked at her partner and seen the wide smile on her face, and, beneath it, the depth of emotion that she was feeling at seeing their blended family getting on so well together. Bernie, reading the feeling behind Serena’s eyes, had reached down, put her hand on top of the hand Serena had on her knee, squeezed, and smiled back at her.

Unfortunately everyone had all but finished eating at this point and had become a lot more conscious of what was going on around the table beyond the contents of their plates. Elinor had spotted the look passing between her mother and Bernie 

“Eww!” She’d announced loudly. “Would you two get a room?” 

“We’ve got several.” Serena had fired back. “You’re sitting in one of them. She’d added with a wicked grin. Elinor had raised her glass in recognition of a masterly retort. It was a sign of how far Serena and Elinor had come in their relationship that such teasing could be seen as light hearted fun and not a declaration of hostilities. 

Plates had been emptied, glasses drained, and more than one guest was leant back in their chair more than pleasantly full.

“Anyone got room for pudding?” Serena had asked to a round of enthusiastic responses. “Jason, Elinor, with me.” Serena had announced to Bernie’s confusion. It had all become slightly clearer when Elinor, Jason and Serena appeared on the other side of the hatch. 

“Ready?” Serena had asked.

“For what?” Bernie had asked, as had the looks on Cam and Charlotte’s faces. 

“Passing through race.” Elinor had explained. 

“What?” Bernie had inquired, still none the wiser. 

“You pile up all the plates, left over food, empty bottles – anything we don’t need on the table any more onto the hatch We off load it into the kitchen. If we manage to take everything through and leave the hatch empty at any point we win. If you manage to get everything up on the hatch and the tabled cleared before we manage to empty the hatch, you win. It’s a very competitive game.” 

“We Campbells take it very seriously.” Serena had elaborated. 

“I see,” Bernie had replied. “Well the Wolfe Dunns are more than ready to give you a run for your money, aren’t we kids?” Bernie had glanced at her children and been heartened by their enthusiastic replies.

“Ready when you are then.” Serena had declared. Bernie and Cam took up position either side of the hatch, whilst Charlotte stationed herself mid way along the table ready to relay anything at the far end of the table into Cam and Bernie’s reach. Happy with their game plan Bernie had said

“Bring it on!”

What followed had been complete mayhem. As fast as Bernie, Charlotte and Cam piled the dishes and assorted other bits and pieces onto the hatch they were whisked away by Elinor and Serena onto the work surface below in the kitchen. Jason was in charge of clearing things off the worktop to ensure there was enough space for the seemingly never ending stream of items coming from the dining room. There had been a frenzy of activity; plates and cutlery rattled and chinked, good natured accusations of cheating had flown along the ranks of participants, along with encouraging shouts. The game had finally ended with both teams claiming victory due to a plate slipping in Serena’s hand slightly and touching the hatch again before it had been fully removed. It had, for a split second when it had been in the air, left the hatch empty before Cam had placed a dish down. Cam had claimed it didn’t count because the plate Serena had been moving hadn’t been fully under control and the rest of the Wolfe Dunn team agreed with him. The Campbell Haynes team did not agree. The good natured teasing had continued until Guinevere had spoken. 

Greta, very sensibly, had kept Guinevere safely at the far end of the table, well away from the chaos. They’d sat together and watched the antics at the other end of the table – Greta with bemused detachment, Guinevere with bewildered, excited, disbelief. She’d not been so happy when all the play arguments had started and had obviously decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“Be nice! Be friends!” She had told them all sternly. 

“You’re absolutely right.” Serena had declared. “Who wants pudding?” The whole party had agreed enthusiastically and Jason and Elinor had returned to the dining room to ensure they didn’t miss out. Serena certainly hadn’t skimped on pudding. In a much more civilised manner, the bowls for pudding were passed through, followed by dish after dish of sweet treats: mince pies, brandy butter, yule log, sherry trifle, a jug of cream, an entire Christmas cake and the biggest and most lavish cheese board Bernie had ever seen.

“Are you all ready?” Serena had called from the hatch as she had set the Christmas pudding in it’s dish on top of a cake tin so that everyone at the table had a clear view. Jason hadn’t been happy with the idea of a flaming pudding being in such close proximity to his little daughter, but he knew that setting the Christmas pudding alight was a tradition that couldn’t just be ignored, and this had been the compromise that he and Serena had come up with. Enthusiastic responses had come from the table.

“Could you turn off the lights please Greta?” Serena had asked as she’d switched off the kitchen light. Great had obliged and the rooms were plunged into gloom, if not total darkness. Serena had poured the contents of a small saucepan over the pudding, removed Bernie’s zippo lighter (which she’d commandeered earlier) from her pocket and flipped it open so a bright flame leapt up. Being careful to stand as far back as she could she’d held the lighter at the end of her extended arm and touched it to the pudding. With an almost audible ‘woosh’ a bright blue flame sprang up, covered the pudding and jiggled merrily on top of it. A flurry of ‘ooh’s and ‘ah’s came from the dining room along with an excited clapping from Guinevere. Guinevere wasn’t sure why her Great Aunt was setting fire to their pudding, but it did look pretty and none of the other adults seemed to be concerned, so she had decided it was safe enough to enjoy it. Once the flames had died down, Serena had carried the pudding through and sat it in the middle of the table. 

“Well, come on then, dig in!” she had declared and sparked a flurry of activity at the table as bowls were filled and the pristine pudding dishes decimated. Anyone would have been hard pressed to believe that the company around the table had eaten a mountain of food only moments ago, not if they judged by the quantities of the various desserts they were putting away. Even Guinevere had been munching happily on a slice of yule log.

It was some while before the last of them admitted defeat and sat back beyond full. If Bernie had been expecting an opportunity to relax and let her lunch settle she had been disappointed. Serena had everybody straight up on their feet. This time it was Cam and Jason who had cleared the table and moved it against the dining room wall. Greta and Guinevere had been put to clearing up the bits of cracker that had fallen off the table. It wasn’t clear, exactly, how helpful Guinevere was being but she was happy and occupied and nobody was going to question that.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Elinor and Charlotte had been set to work on the kitchen island. They’d been presented with the platters of cold turkey and ham, a huge slab of butter, a range of condiments from mayonnaise to pickle and a veritable mountain of bread and asked to turn it all into sandwiches. They’d got stuck in with enthusiasm and soon there had been several platters in front of them.

Serena had put Bernie to work too: refreshing the cheese platter from a carrier bag over flowing with what seemed like a portion of every cheese that existed; decanting crisps into bowls and nuts into dishes, as well as plating up an avalanche of sausage rolls, pork pies and tartlets.

Serena herself, as well as co-ordinating the hive of activity, was turning her hand to the desserts. She had re-plated the yule log, mince pies and Christmas pudding and cake so they looked inviting. - adding more of everything from a seemingly never ending supply. Even Serena, though, had been at a loss as to how to make the half eaten trifle look more appealing. Having done her best to neaten up the edges she’d shrugged and turned her attention to arranging a huge fruit bowl and filling up cream jugs.

Back in the dining room Jason had been showing Cameron where the extra crockery and cutlery were kept, and they were now busy laying them out on the dining room table, adding the plates, platters and bowls as they came through from the kitchen. When, after some considerable time and effort all round, all the food was out of the kitchen Serena had asked Bernie to get the drinks out of the her car, and handed her the keys, suggesting that she asked the boys to help her. Initially Bernie had been sceptical about needing their help, but when she’d opened Serena’s boot and seen that it was full to bursting with bottles of wine, spirits and fizz. she’d changed her mind, A decision confirmed as the right one when she had seen the back seat of the car was loaded up with fruit juice and soft drinks. It had taken Cam, Jason and Bernie almost fifteen minutes to bring every thing inside. Whilst Cam and Bernie had started putting together a make shift bar in the corner of the living room Jason had collected box after box of glasses from the garage. Greta, under supervision from Guinevere, was unpacking the boxes and putting the glasses within reach of the drinks. Serena finally called a halt to all the activity when it had become apparent that neither the dining room table, nor the make shift bar in the living room, could hold another single solitary item. The children had made a bee line for the living room both to top up their alcohol levels and to avoid being press ganged into any further jobs Serena might have come up with. Serena had stood in the middle of the dining room, surveying the laden table with what looked rather like concern. Bernie had come up behind her, wrapped her arm around Serena’s waist and pulled her close so that her curves tucked neatly into Bernie’s embrace. 

“If you’re worrying about how much food there is I’m hazarding a guess that you’ve probably got enough,” Bernie had said softly in Serena’s ear, with a clear hint of irony in her voice – which somehow had gone over Serena’s head.

“I’m not sure we have.” she’d replied with now unmistakable concern.”

“How many have you invited round?” Bernie murmurs into Serena’s neck as she plants a row of kisses along it.

“Oh, quite a few. Sort of an open house, in fact.” She’d explained. “Hard to tell how many might come. One year we had almost fifty people in total, at various points. We almost ran out of turkey sandwiches that year. Most of the time it’s less than that, but I do like to make sure that no one goes hungry.”

“I’m pretty hungry.” Bernie had announced, causing Serena to spin round in her arms. 

“How can you still be hungry after that lunch?” she’d asked incredulously.

“Not that kind of hungry,” Bernie had explained with a glint in her eye. 

“Oh.” had been all Serena had managed to say before Bernie’s lips were on hers, soft, warm, insistent and distracting. It had been a perfect moment to take advantage of, a moment of peace in a busy and full house, a moment to themselves - and Bernie had been all in favour of taking full advantage of it. It had been almost literally a moment though, because no sooner had their kiss started than the sound of the doorbell had disturbed their cocoon, and brought them back to the here and now. It hadn’t been long, but long enough for Elinor to have got up from her seat and made her way to the front door. Not long, but long enough for her to have seen what Serena and Bernie were up to and to have rolled her eyes at the sight. Not long, but long enough for Elinor to have called out

“I’ll get it. If you can tear yourselves away from each other for long enough you might like to come and say hello to whoever your guest is.”

Serena had reached up and tapped Bernie’s nose fondly and said,

“Hold that thought. We’ll come back to it. Right now we need to go socialise with out guests.” Bernie, regretfully, had given Serena a last squeeze, whispered “later” in her ear and let her go. Well, almost, she’d kept hold of her hand and as they’d left the dinning room to go and find out who had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

Ric was stood on their doorstep, clutching a bottle of what looked like a rather nice Shiraz in his hand.

“Elinor, why haven’t you asked Ric to come in out of the cold?” Serena had said, mock scolding. “You know what the house rules are - anyone bearing wine is welcome.” Elinor had rolled her eyes at her mother, but stepped back to allow Serena to step forward, embrace Ric, and relieve him of his bottle in one smooth manoeuvrer.

“Darla and the baby not with you?” Serena had asked as she’d ushered him through the door.

“They’re having Christmas dinner with his parents, and spending the evening with Kofe.” Ric had said as he shrugged off his coat, gloves and scarf.

“What about your Christmas lunch? Serena had asked with concern 

“Oh, I didn’t bother. We had smoked salmon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. That’s been keeping me going.” Ric had replied.

“Well that won’t do at all!” Serena had decreed, entering at full throttle into ‘hostess with the mostest’ mode “You can have the honour of first choice of the buffet.” Serena had thrust the bottle of wine at Bernie in order to better usher Ric towards the food. Bernie had taken the bottle and laughed at the look of protest on Ric’s face – which Serena was taking no notice of. 

“Resistance is futile when she’s in this kind of mood.” Bernie had murmured in Ric’s ear as she’d passed him on her way out of the hallway and to the kitchen to stash the wine safely away. Ric bowed to the inevitable and followed Serena towards the food.

Ric had barely made it back to the comfy seats in the living room, overflowing plate in one hand, overfull wine glass in the other; when the doorbell had gone again. This time Bernie had jumped up to answer the bell’s call. She’d opened the door to see a tall slender figure in a smart black coat standing there, his outfit finished with a pair of soft leather gloves and an even softer cashmere scarf, wrapped round his neck and neatly tucked under his lapels. 

“Hello Henrik” Bernie had said with a smile, “Come on in.” Henrik had stepped over the doorstep and handed a tupperware box to Bernie.

“These are for you.” he’d said as Bernie had taken the box from him and opened the lid. “Swedish Christmas cookies.” he’d explained. Bernie had looked into the box. It was full of delicious looking biscuits with edges decorated festively in either red or green. As Bernie looked closer she’d caught a whiff of vanilla coming from them, as well as lemon and something she thought might be cardamom. Then she’d noticed that the red trimmed cookies were rather haphazardly decorated, almost messy. The green ones, in contrast, were neat and precise. They could almost have been decorated by a machine. Henrik, who had been shrugging his coat off, paused, obviously having seen Bernie’s confusion.

“Ah. You see, I made these yesterday, just before Oskar went back to Sweden with his mother. He decorated the red ones.” he explained, peering into the open box and pointing at the red cookies. “I took responsibility for the decoration of the biscuits destined to be green. 

“Ah.” Bernie echoed, with a smile at the thought of the neat and precise man in front of her decorating cookies with his grandson.

“They look delicious.” A voice had said from behind Bernie.

“The ones Oskar and I sampled were satisfactory.” Henrik had said as Serena walked out from behind Bernie and gave him a brief hug before pointing out the hook where he could hang up his coat. 

“How was your shift?” she’d asked.

“It was, thankfully, uneventful.” he’d replied.

“I never understood why you chose to work on Christmas Day when you didn’t have to.”

“Well, with Oskar back in Sweden with his mother it seemed rather selfish of me to deny another parent the joy of having Christmas morning at home purely so I could have a lay in. I was more than happy to step up and take my turn.”

“At least you had the canteen Christmas dinner to cheer you up.” Serena had remarked sympathetically.

“Alas no. That had to be pre booked and by the time it had been decided that Oskar was going back to Sweden and I would be working, booking had closed. I had to content myself with cold meat and hard boiled eggs.”

“But that’s hardly enough to get you through a busy shift!” 

“It was most satisfactory.” Henrik had insisted. 

“Well you must be hungry by now. Let me show you where the food is.” 

“She’s not in the mood to take no for an answer.” Bernie had tipped Henrik off as she’d passed him back on her way to the kitchen to find a plate to put the cookies on. With good grace, Henrik gave in to the force of nature that was Serena in full flow and allowed himself to be herded off in the direction of the buffet. 

It seemed that, despite their earlier protestations that they wouldn’t need to eat again for days, both Cam and Jason had decided that they did indeed have room for more food after all. Both of them had piled their plates high with sandwiches and goodies It wasn’t long before Henrik too had an overflowing plate. He and Jason had soon been in deep conversation about the merits, or otherwise, of the various contestants that had taken part in the Worlds Strongest Man Christmas special. Cam, having decided that the start of this conversation was his cue to leave, had been making his way past the front door when the bell had rung once more. A little bit of juggling with the plate in his one hand and the glass in the other had allowed him to pull the front door open to reveal Fletch and his children, all sporting tinsel and elf ears. 

“All right Cam. Happy Christmas.” Fletch had said, holding out his hand to shake Cam’s but dropping it slightly awkwardly when he’d seen that both of Cam’s hands were full.

“Come on in guys.” Cam had said with a wide grin. Fletch hands the box of chocolates he’d been clutching to Bernie who had appeared in the doorway, and makes his way past her to greet everyone in the living room – the two youngest Fletchlings clutching his now empty hands. Evie had made a beeline for Serena and they were soon in deep discussion about the pros and cons of the two medical schools Evie was planning on applying to. That had left Mikey in the doorway with Cam. 

“Hey mate, I don’t suppose there’s any food going begging? Dad tried his best, but he’s not that much of a cook. The turkey was dry, the spuds were burnt and the sprouts were just a flavourless mush.” Mikey had asked in such a conspiratorial man to man way that Cam had been momentarily lost for words reduced to silently gesturing towards the dinning room with the hand holding his glass. 

The new arrivals, having helped themselves (or been helped) to food and drink, had made themselves at home and got on with the important business of catching up with the rest of the guests and the gossip. The relative peace and calm was broken about half an hour later by the doorbell ringing once again. Serena had jumped up at once and opened the door to Sasha and Essie, mosses basket containing a sleeping Isla between them. Serena had wasted no time in ushering the three of them in out of the cold and into the warmth of the living room. Guinevere may only have been a toddler but she was able to recognise both a mosses basket and baby when she saw them. The new arrivals have barely sat down before she makes her way over to them.

“Baby.” She’d said authoritatively to Essie.

“It is.” Essie had confirmed. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes please.” the excited tot had said.

“OK, but she’s asleep so you’ll need to be quiet so you don’t wake her up.”

“Be quiet.” Guinevere had echoed as Essie brought her left hand to the mosses basket on her lap and pulled the blanket out of the way so Guinevere could see Isla’s face better whilst her right hand tilted the basket slightly. Guinevere had looked carefully at the baby. It had been hard to tell if she had been impressed or not. Finally the little girl had said

“Pretty.” in a decisive tone. 

“Yes, she is isn’t she.” Essie had replied.

“No. Pretty.” the toddler had said again, but this time she’d pointed at the single solitaire diamond twinkling in the light on Essie’s ring finger. Elinor, who had been sitting next to Essie, had been very quick on the uptake. 

“Wow!” she’d said. “That is a serious diamond. I didn’t know the two of you were engaged. Congratulations!” Essie flushes and looks at Sasha who is radiating love and happiness. 

“We weren’t until this morning.” Essie had explained and Elinor’s eyes had widened.

“Mum” she’d called out, “You’ll never guess what!” Serena had looked up from the conversation she’d been deep into with Ric, but Essie had decided that this was the point at which she needed to take back at least some control.

“As of this morning Sasha and I are engaged.” She’d said, waving the very impressive ring in the air with a smile, which had been nothing compared to the grin Sasha had been sporting and threatening to split his face in two. Serena had been almost instantaneously up and out of her seat, embracing Essie and admiring her ring. Following Serena’s example the rest of the room had erupted into noisy and heartfelt congratulations. The ring was admired and Sasha’s hand had been shaken so many times it was a wonder it hadn’t been shaken right off. Bernie had even conjured a couple of bottles of champagne from somewhere and she and Charlotte were busy thrusting glasses into willing hands. Serena had looked quizzically at Bernie when she’d been handed her glass.

“You’re not the only one in this house who can pull off a surprise, or hide alcohol.” she’d muttered into Serena’s ear before going off to hand out more glasses. In the midst of all the noise and the sudden burst of activity it was something of a miracle that Isla hadn’t woken up and added her own voice to the cacophony of noise. If she had it would have been almost impossible for the sound of the doorbell ringing to have been heard. As it was Bernie had been passing the hallway just at the time it had gone off. She’d thrust the two glasses of champagne she’d been carrying at Cam, wiped her hands on her trademark skinny black jeans and pulled the door open. Standing on the doorstep had been Jac, with Emma stood in front of her, clutching an Elsa doll in her hands.

“Emma and I were wondering if you might have any AA batteries? Emma has already used all the ones I brought and, sadly, Elsa doesn’t sing if she doesn’t have batteries.” Jac had said with a pained expression on her face. Bernie recognises the expression. Obviously part of Jac is delighted that Emma is so happy with her new toy, but that part of her is clearly at war with the part of her that might actually turn into a gibbering wreck if she has to listen to whatever it is the doll sings one more time.

“You’d better come in then. I’m sure we’ve got some batteries in the bedr...”

“Bernie!” Serena’s voice had cut Bernie off (and not a second too soon) as she’d come up behind her. 

“Somewhere.” Bernie had corrected herself hastily, earning herself a raised eyebrow and knowing look from Jac. Bernie couldn’t be sure, but she thought that there might even have been a hint of respect in there, but she couldn’t be certain. As soon as she was out of her coat Emma had darted off to join Guinevere and the two youngest Fletchlings who had putting Guinevere’s new tea set to good use. Emma and her Elsa doll soon had cups full of imaginary tea in front of them. 

“Would you like a glass of champagne? You could use a drink, I’m sure.” Bernie had offered.

“Thank you.” Jac had said as she took the glass that Serena was holding out to her. “Pushing the boat out a bit, aren’t you?” 

“Well, we have something worth celbrating.” Serena had explained.

“Oh?” Jac had replied.

“You’d better ask Sasha.” Bernie had told her and Jac had given the pair of them a bemused glance before making her way into the living room. Seconds later she had been enveloping Sasha in a huge bear hug.

“Thought you told me that she didn’t have a heart.” Bernie had whispered in Serena’s ear, only to get a ‘humpf’ in reply. 

The living room was comfortably crowded and the guests were tucking into food and drink with gusto. Bernie had been surprised to see that a not insignificant dent had been made in the mountains of food they had set out. A significant amount of good natured laughter and chatter was coming from both the dining room and living room.

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.” Bernie had noted. 

“They seem to be. People do seem to like Christmas afternoon the way I do it.” Serena had noted by way of reply. 

“That’s because you do it so well.” Bernie had said simply as she had slipped her arms around Serena’s waist. “Not the only thing you do well.” she’d said.

“Oh?” Serena had questioned. Bernie had time only to utter a brief ‘um’ before her lips were on Serena’s. They’d momentarily found themselves in a deserted corner of the hallway and Bernie had decided to make the most of the opportunity – that was until they were, once again, interrupted by the doorbell.

“Remind me to disconnect that blasted thing.” Bernie had muttered into Serena’s lips before she’d torn herself away and pulled the front door open. On the step stood Dom, and just behind him stood Carol. Carol, as ever, had a beaming smile fixed to her face. Dom too had been sporting a wide grin – but his looked a little bit false and not a little bit desperate. 

“Merry Christmas.” Bernie offered as an opening gambit. Carol had returned the greeting brightly, as had Dom. If anything, though, Dom’s reply had been overly cheerful and a little strained. Realising that there must be something going on Bernie had said

“Carol, you’re just in time for the champagne. Serena, why don’t you take Carol and see if you can find her a glass?”

“Oh, well, don’t mind if I do.” Carol had managed to say before she was swept off by a very obliging Serena. Dom’s demeanour had changed the moment Carol and Serena were out of view.

“Everything OK?” Bernie had asked as Dom visibly sagged in front of her.

“She’s driving me up the wall!” Dom had exclaimed. “She’s checking I’m OK every five minutes. She keeps trying to force feed me ice cream. When she’s not doing either of those things she’s trying to come up with ways to distract me. She even tried to get me to play Pictionary earlier.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But can you imagine playing with my Mother?”

“Fair point.” Bernie had conceded. 

“I just couldn’t take her fussing and sympathy any more. I know she meant well, but she was stifling me. It’s not like I’m the first person to split up with their husband. People do get over it. I was getting over it. I was at the end of my tether and the only thing I could think of doing was to bring her here. At least I thought it might stop me from strangling her with the awful tinsel she’s insisted on putting everywhere.”

Bernie had, with difficulty, suppressed a laugh at the image. 

“I’ll make it my mission to run interference for you. We don’t need any tinsel related incidents here.” she’d said “Although it doesn’t look like I’m going to have to do much.” she’d added with a nod of her head in the direction of the living room where Carol was, glass of champagne in hand, deep in conversation with Henrik. Dom had looked in the direction Bernie had been indicating and she’d almost felt the eye roll he’d made. Grinning, Bernie had put her arm around Dom’s shoulder and steered him in the direction of the dining room. 

“I’ve got a bottle of rather nice single malt hidden around here somewhere. I think you could do with a glass.” Dom hadn’t taken any further persuading. 

“So could you, I could imagine. Don’t think for a second that I didn’t see what you and Serena were up to before you answered the door. 

“Would a large whiskey be enough to make you forget what you saw?” Bernie had asked, not embarrassed, but equally not keen for Dom to make what he’s seen a topic of conversation. Dom had smiled at her and drawn his fingers across his lips in a closing a zipper motion but said

“Lead me to the direction of the booze.” with a visibly more relaxed face. 

The rest of the afternoon had passed in a haze of food, drink, conversation and companionship. Entertainment had been provided by the younger guests acting out the key points and storylines of their favourite films and making the adults guess which film it was. The game had begun to change from cute and funny to slightly more risqué when some of the more inebriated adults has started to join in. Henrik had proved to be an adept, if deadpan, actor and had got his films across easily. Carol had, in contrast, been hopeless. Sasha had completely confused the plot of his film with another of a similar title, but very different plot, leaving everybody scratching their heads. Serena had been a natural, Bernie had refused to be drawn into giving it a go and Jason had proved to be very good at guessing accurately.

The house had rung with laughter, but before too long Greta had pointed out to Jason that it was past 8pm and there had been enough disruption to Guinevere's daily routine already without adding a very late night as well. The sleepy Guinevere had been hugged goodbye fiercely by both her Great Aunts and been carried to Greta’s car along with her new prized possession – her tea set. It wasn’t long after that when Essie and Sasha had decided Isla too needed her bed and had made their farewells. It had taken a bit longer for Fletch to round up his children and take his leave of the party. The younger members of his brood were all but asleep anyway and more than happy to be heading home to their comfy beds, The older two were less than keen to leave. Evie had been deep in conversation with Bernie about her time as an Army Medic. She’d been reluctant to end the conversation, especially as Bernie was halfway through a very entertaining story about an incident with a bayonet. Mikey, having decided that he was in need of some help, was trying to pass on his best chat up lines to Cam – much to Cam’s bemusement. His protestations that he really wouldn’t be able to pull off Mikey’s cheeky chappie charm went unheard. Fletch had apologetically removed his eldest son and bundled him, and the rest of the Fletchlings out of the door with cheerful calls of “Merry Christmas” floating back into the house behind them. 

Emma had fallen asleep in her mothers lap, holding on tightly to her, thankfully now silent, Elsa doll. Jac had decided to get Emma home and to bed before she woke up. She’d pulled the sleepy girl tightly into her arms and covered her with the blanket Serena had provided and carefully made her way to the front door. With Emma filling her arms she’d been unable to do anything other than glare and offer an ironic “thank you” when Bernie, with a grin, had slipped a packet of batteries into the back pocket of her jeans.

Carol had been the next to leave. It had turned out that champagne went “right to my head” and Dom had, with a very apologetic face, escorted his slightly squiffy mother towards the door and home. Henrik, Ric, Bernie and Serena had settled in the comfiest soft chairs the living room had to offer whilst Cam, Charlotte and Elinor had insisted on cleaning up the dining room. Both Bernie and Serena had told them there was no need, but the kids had insisted, saying that their mothers had done more than enough for one day.

“Besides,” Elinor had told them, “There isn’t that much to do.” Disbelieving Elinor’s reassurances Bernie had gone into the dining room and had found, to her surprise, not the mountain of food she had been expecting, but empty plate after empty plate. 

“Took me by surprise too, the first time I saw it” Elinor had come up behind Bernie and said. “But it seems that people eat more than you’d expect and mum’s a pretty good judge of how much to feed them.”

“So it seems.” Bernie had managed to reply before Elinor had shooed her off back into the living room in a manner so similar to Serena’s it could almost have been her. It hadn’t taken the kids long to collect all the dishes, dispose of the rubbish and empty bottles, stack the dishwasher and corral the limited leftovers and pop them safely into the fridge. Dining room cleared, plates that couldn’t fit in the dishwashers first cycle stacked neatly on the counter next to the sink along with the glasses that needed had washing, they’d tidied the bar area and made a bit of a show of topping up the adults glasses. Serena had looked at Elinor with narrowed eyes.

“What are you after?” she’d asked. Previous experience suggested that when Elinor was this helpful she was usually after something.

“Nothing.” Elinor had said slightly too quickly. Serena’s eyebrow had flown up in response “Seriously nothing.” she’d continued “It’s just that now everything’s pretty much cleared up, Cam. Charlotte and I thought we might make a move. You know, leave you to it.” Serena had said nothing and let a heavy silence hand in the air between them, not letting her eyes move from Elinor’s face.

“Oh, all right.” Elinor had capitulated. “The three of us have been invited to a private party at the pub we meet up at. We didn’t want to get there too late...”

“So you’re abandoning us oldies for the pub.?” Bernie had asked Elinor (and Cam and Charlotte who had by this point appeared behind her). 

“Basically yes.” Cameron had confirmed. 

“Good for you.” Bernie had replied with a broad smile on her face. “Have a good time.” She’d added as she got up and initiated a round of hugs and a flurry of goodbyes, which Serena had joined in with. Their three children had decided to make their escape whilst the going was good, and it had been merely minutes before they’d made their way out of the door bundled in their coats and waving at their mothers, who were standing in the doorway as they left.

The next hour or so had been much quieter. Ric, Henrik, Bernie and Serena had spent a very pleasant time chatting and generally putting the world to rights. Bernie had produced her bottle of single malt and it had looked like they might have been settling in for a late session. Henrik, however, had called a halt to proceedings shortly before 10pm on the grounds that he had an early shift the following morning. Ric had indicated that he would have been happy to stay for another drink, but had rapidly changed his mind when Henrik had pointed out that he too had an early shift the following morning. He’d capitulated to the need for a (relatively) early night with something less than good grace and soon Bernie had been showing her colleagues out of the front door.

Serena had said her goodbyes before the two men had left the living room. She’d decided to take advantage of the opportunity to make a start on washing up the best glasses. It was at the kitchen sink, elbows deep in mulled wine scented soap suds, that Bernie had found her moments later. And it was from there that Bernie had tempted Serena into joining her on the sofa. And it was from on the sofa, tangled up in each other, that Serena had asked Bernie if she’d enjoyed their extended family Christmas, causing Bernie to replay the events of the day in her mind as she considered the question.

“Yes. Yes I did enjoy it.” she admitted. “I’ll tell you what I enjoy more though.” Serena turns slightly in Bernie’s arms so she’s all but facing her partner.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Let me show you.” Bernie replied as she bent her head and her lips met Serena’s. Serena lets out a weak moan and Bernie slips down the sofa until Serena is all but laying on top of her. This time when their lips part under soft, sweet pleasure there is no one to comment “Eww” and the doorbell doesn’t ring.


End file.
